What I Want to Hold Onto
by When the Moon Met the Sun
Summary: "As much as I've tried to clarify, love is quite simple."-Quote by Chrisette Michele. A collection of one-shots; mainly MirokuxSango.


_Pocketful of Sunshine_

Moonlight.

She couldn't see it, but she knew it was there, lurking just beyond the clouds. Sango wondered idly if the clouds were so vindictive that they had to horde the moon's lovely shine to themselves.

She needed a distraction, something to chase away the latest nightmare that had plagued her. She turned to the window again, her breath beginning to come in short gasps.

Not a new moon just yet, so Inuyasha would maintain his demon powers for a few days more. Sango could make out his form sitting beneath the window, sword cuddled almost affectionately in his arms. His face would be relaxed from it's usual scowl, she knew, because Kagome slept peacefully just beside him.

Sango sat up carefully, making sure not to awake Kirara, huddled to her side. She could faintly see Shippo curled up next to her demon cat, and she doubled her efforts at extracting herself without disturbing them.

It was slow work in the darkness, and she felt it closing in on her suddenly, suffocating. Almost frantic, she rushed to be free from her place on the floor, desperate to escape outside where she might be able to breathe again.

The small hut Kaede had offered them did not leave her much room to maneuver, but the demon slayer managed to make it to the doorway hoping that she hadn't caused much of a ruckus. She almost slipped through to the outside world, but in a moment of rare indecisiveness, she hesitated. With her eyes adjusted to the dark, she turned to search for the only companion she hadn't spotted: the monk.

Her dark eyes swept the room once, twice, three times, but he wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere in the tiny room.

The demon-slayer felt a wave of panic creeping through her, and suddenly the need to scream or breathe or just _use_ her lungs took the forefront in her mind. She ran to the outskirts of the village before she could register what she was doing, taking heaving breaths she didn't know she needed.

Her mind was in overdrive. It was the third time that week that she'd awoken to find the monk gone, only days after his Wind Tunnel had almost sucked him in. She hadn't spoken up about it, merely because he was always back by morning, looking no worse for wear. But now the dreamlike images of Naraku standing above Miroku's lifeless body, reaching his demon claws for her brother seeped into her consciousness. She fought them back, gripping her head like she could force them out.

What if he never returned this time? What if he'd left for good on some foolish mission to destroy Naraku, leaving her alone in a burst of misguided affection?

The demon-slayer fell to her knees, silent tears cascading down her cheeks, her breathing rough and uneven.

She wasn't sure how long she crouched in the dirt in the open air where any number of demons could have finished her off. She had no weapons with her, and if even she had any, the will to fight escaped her right then.

Sango stayed down, willing herself to stand and look for the monk. She needed validation, to _see_ for herself he was okay, if only to yell at him for being a lecher.

Her tears must have lulled her into a sleep because the next thing she knew she was leaning on a strong chest, a rough hand stroking her hair, another wrapped around her waist. Freezing, she prepared to use her trusty right hook to escape from whoever held her, but a voice stopped her motions in her tracks.

"Relax, Sango," the familiar voice hushed, the grip loosening somewhat. "It's only me."

She risked a glance upwards through her bangs, a pair of grey-violet eyes staring down at her warmly.

Her face heated up, and she quickly averted her gaze, doing as he'd suggested. The monk held her tenderly, staring off into the distance as if pondering some troubling dark thoughts. Sango frowned at that, wondering when her monk stopped thinking about groping all the time and started thinking seriously. She wasn't entirely sure whether a serious Miroku was what she wanted.

Miroku didn't speak for the longest time, only holding her. It could've been hours or minutes before he chose to fill the silence.

"You had a nightmare." It wasn't a question, but a statement. He didn't bother checking with her for accuracy. He knew it was true.

"I...you weren't there," she replied softly. She saw that he guiltily didn't meet her increasingly angry stare, and she repeated it more accusingly, "_You_ weren't there! Where were you?" She punctuated each word with a jab to his ribs. "_Where_?"

The monk winced, but his grip tightened again, answering in a low tone, "I know. Forgive me, Sango."

She felt tears pricking her eyes, but her drive to fight was back (a little corner of her mind marveled at how just being near him made her want to fight again, but she ignored it) and she wasn't letting him get out of this one.

"Naraku...he finished you off again and he almost got Kohaku!" she cried, struggling against him.

He bit out another apology and rocked her back and forth, hugging her even more tightly than before. He knew she was most vulnerable at night, the darkness reminding her of how close she'd come to death and to leaving Kohaku to Naraku's whims. His heart ached because he made her worry about him, but the nighttime was one of the few times he could get to himself. Originally, he'd figured she'd be okay-she hadn't had a nightmare in weeks-but he underestimated the stress of being so close to success and simultaneously so far.

He knew that when, _if_, they defeated Naraku, the terrors would decrease, but that the scars, physical and emotional, the demon had left would never truly go away. He just hoped that he was there for her when she needed him.

A rock dug into his leg-the place where he'd found Sango coming back from his walk wasn't exactly the most comfortable-and he shifted, inadvertently rubbing her bottom with one hand. He considered taking advantage of the moment for about a second before he decided against it. There would be times for groping later, once the sun rose.

Sango didn't seem to notice, slowly regaining her composure and getting comfortable in his arms as the clouds finally began to depart from the sky. Streaks of moonlight trickled through their defenses.

The waning moon was soon visible in its entirely, and Miroku sighed contentedly. The demon slayer turned, catching her breath as she saw the usual weariness of his face all but gone. His eyes caught hers, and in them she saw a hope burning brighter than she ever seen in him. For whatever reason, he believed that everything would be alright in the end.

And from that moment on, she believed, too.

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><p>There's a place that I go, but nobody knows.<p>

Where the rivers flow, and I call it home.

And there's no more lies. In the darkness, there's light.

And nobody cries. There's only butterflies.

-_Pocketful of Sunshine,_ Natasha Bedingfield

* * *

><p><em>AN: I plan for this to be a collection of one-shots based on songs, mainly focusing on Miroku and Sango, written for my buddy Kokurai-Alchemist. It will be updated periodically, however, it will be marked as completed in the event that I spontaneously decide not to continue it. In any case, don't forget to review!_


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